


start me up

by rosepetalrichie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: M/M, also they get a lil touchy towards the end but nothing explicit/mature, henry is mentioned but he gets what he deserves, richie and stan fuck shit up bc it's the holidays and why not, they both smoke weed and they're stupid lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalrichie/pseuds/rosepetalrichie
Summary: "'Tis the season, motherfucker!" Stan shouts, leaning out the window to gift Henry a middle finger as they skid down the road.And they cannot stop fucking laughing. It's almost to the point where it's getting on Stan's nerves since his stomach hurts and Richie keeps snorting and Jesus Christ it is so much. But when his head flops to the side and he's staring at Richie again, when he sees the curve in Richie's nose and the tiny curls framing his forehead and how his lips look extra full, he presses himself up against the center console, takes Richie's chin and tries his best to kiss him.or, richie and stan are stoned, rebellious shit-wrecking boys and hate henry bowers with their entire beings.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	start me up

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my gift for surroundedbythelonely on tumblr for the secret santa organized by stoziersecretsanta!! my sincerest apologies for the slightly delay, i was a little busier than i expected yesterday so i didn’t get a chance to fix it up and post it. anyway, i wanted to do something with some shit-wrecking teenage boys since my favorite personal hc is that stan lowkey goes through a rebellious phase and richie is totally behind him in it lmao. hope you like it!!
> 
> starboystan on tumblr also created a playlist to go along with the fic, i'm not sure if links work on ao3 but if it ends up not working it'll be on my tumblr post (rosepetalrichie is my url).  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32Mz0JouddyPJdcezDyQm1

Stan is much too dignified to slam his door, but he wouldn't be lying that it would make him feel a little better.

He's eighteen now, and he feels like he's finally at the age where he should be taken a little more seriously in regards to being able to make decisions on his own, though his parents haven't really understood that. The argument of that night is about his future that continued to crawl near; his father makes sure to emphasize Stan's "potential" every other sentence when defending his stance about how he should apply to the most prestigious and private universities after graduation and gets particularly pissy when Stan brought up NYU as a first choice.Stan doesn't know how to tell his father that not everybody in his friend group had an Ivy League-worthy transcript and that he doesn't want to throw himself into this brand new place all by himself. New York is scary enough even with people you know by your side. 

It lasts for all of five minutes before Stan storms off, his father's voice trailing behind him, and he gently closes his door no matter how violently the desire to scream bubbles in his throat. He leans against the wall, closes his eyes, thinks long and hard about how he should take this night to himself to try and relax, hears something hit his window, and immediately opens his eyes.

He quickly walks over to the other side of the room and slides open the glass, knowing full well who's standing in his backyard.

"Richie, what the fuck?"

He looks like shit. There's a joint in between his fingers and despite the snow, he isn't wearing a jacket. Stan pops out the screen as he usually did, sets it aside, and leans further out to see that Richie's truck windows were open, which explains the faint music coming from the direction of Stan's driveway. Stan prays to whatever holy entity is watching over him that his parents don't hear any of this going on, or if they do that they just don't think much of it, because the last time Stan came home after sneaking out he was in such deep shit that the smell was burned into his nostrils for weeks to follow.

"Got any big plans tonight?" Richie coos from below him.

Stan turns his gaze downwards and gives a subtle glare. "No. Why?" Richie gestures with his free hand, and after Stan gives a strong exhale, he swings his legs over the edge and carefully slides out, using the small windowsill to support himself as he drops himself into the snow.

The moment Stan is on the ground, Richie envelopes him in his long arms. And holy fuck, he stinks. It's all weed and beer and Stan is suffocating in it. 

Stan places his palms on either side of Richie's face, concernedly looking into his eyes. "How the hell did you get here?" he laughs.

Richie gives him a dopey smile. "I'm not drunk, only a little baked. I can still drive," he responds.

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Stan says with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't crash, did I?"

"Christ, Rich..." Stan mutters. Richie raises the joint in an offering manner, and Stan shakes his head. "I'm good."

"More for me, then." Richie shrugs and takes a drag while Stan rolls his eyes. "Anyway," Richie begins, puffs of smoke accentuating each syllable, "so Henry's been a dick lately, huh?"

"Henry is a dick all of the time."

"Okay, yeah, well you get what I mean. But, as both you and I know, it's the season of giving-"

Stan scrunches his face. "Are we going to give Henry Bowers a gift?" 

Richie squints in response. "Something like that, yeah." Stan doesn't the chance to question any further before Richie has him by the hand, dragging him to his truck. Stan is in a Journey t-shirt, sweatpants, and the same Vans he's had since middle school, and he's hoping that Richie isn't going to take them anywhere public.

Richie leads him to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door. There's a plastic shopping bag, which Richie gestures to, and Stan opens.

Egg cartons.

Stan looks over his shoulder at Richie with a questioning smile.

"Season of giving!" Richie exclaims, throwing an arm around Stan's waist.

"You're so stupid." Stan giggles. And, y'know, why not be stupid? He's got a bunch of built-up tension from having to keep his back straight for his parents, and fucking shit up doesn't seem awful.

Stan gives the okaying nod and they both climb into their respective seats.

"Buckle up," Richie tells Stan as he starts the truck.

"What, so when your stoned-ass crashes I won't die?"

"You could say that."

As they're driving, Stan silently questions how Richie knows where Henry lives, but he then remembers the time in middle school when Richie's mom got so upset over the "dump-in-Richie's-backpack" fiasco that she drove over to Henry's house to yell at both him and his dad. 

"Did Henry not see you?" Stan had asked the following morning.

Richie shook his head. "I hid in the backseat on the floor."

Henry still tripped him at lunch later in the day.

The countless numbers of stories regarding Henry Bowers being the world's largest asshole only fuels Stan's anger. And of fucking course it should! When Stan looks over at Richie, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the drums of a New Order song Stan doesn't recognize, his head bobbing along, his wide grin when he realizes Stan is staring at him, Stan realizes just how much he would do for him.

There's still half of a joint in his other hand, and Stan leans over to take it. He's not a frequent smoker, at least not to Richie's level, but they've hotboxed the truck so many times in empty store parking lots to sloppily make out that Stan is genuinely surprised they haven't gotten caught. Stan's treehouse was another typical location, but a lot more risky for the obvious reasons.

He's only able to get a couple of drags in before they show up, but it's definitely already starting to kick in. They're both giggling at each other and clambering out of the truck, parked a little way down the street for cautionary reasons, and Stan grabs the bag with the eggs. They walk up the driveway together hand in hand.

Richie removes the carton from the bag, opens it, and bows. "I'll let you do the honors."

Stan takes an egg, chucks it, and completely misses, throwing it into a bush.

"That was fucking terrible, dude."

"Okay, yeah, whatever," Stan grumbles, taking another one. This time it hits the front door with a satisfying _splat_ , and Richie lets out a whoop. Stan shushes him, but Richie argues that they are "literally cracking eggs on a house". Stan rolls his eyes from lack of a response.

Richie runs back to the truck, which confuses Stan until The Rolling Stones starts blasting, and then a smile stretches across his face. Richie dances his way over, pulling his hair back into a small ponytail, and loudly sings, pulling laughter from Stan's mouth. Everything is so much more prominent now, the combination of music and obnoxious giggling is nearly deafening but in such a good, ecstatic way.

They get a few more throws in until the front door opening catches their eye. They immediately freeze.

_"What the fuck?!"_

Henry's voice acts as a shrill alarm for the two of them to start running. They drop the egg carton, link their fingers together, still laughing and laughing and laughing, and thank God Henry's driveway is long because Stan trips over his own foot and Richie has to pull him up from the pavement, and they just barely make it back to the truck.

"'Tis the season, motherfucker!" Stan shouts, leaning out the window to gift Henry a middle finger as they skid down the road.

And they cannot stop fucking laughing. It's almost to the point where it's getting on Stan's nerves since his stomach hurts and Richie keeps snorting and Jesus Christ it is so much. But when his head flops to the side and he's staring at Richie again, when he sees the curve in Richie's nose and the tiny curls framing his forehead and how his lips look extra full, he presses himself up against the center console, takes Richie's chin and tries his best to kiss him.

"Stan, I'm driving."

"Okay."

Richie places a hand on Stan's arm and his widening smile presses up against Stan's mouth. "I'm driving while stoned which is illegal enough-"

"Okay well, it's not illegal to kiss me, so."

There's a pause.

"Well..."

"Oh, you know what I meant."

After another minute of Stan desperately trying to get his tongue in Richie's mouth, he finally sits back down in his seat and dangles his arm out of the window. The cold air blowing in his face is more refreshing than it is numbing, and when Richie places his hand on Stan's knee with the guitar of "Start Me Up" filling the cab of the truck, Stan makes a mental note to invite Richie over to the treehouse the next weekend.

They pull up to the front of Stan's house. Richie turns the music down and finally places a kiss on Stan's lips. "Goodnight, my very attractive rebel boyfriend."

Stan snorts. "Yeah, I'm gonna go get my ass beat by my parents."

Richie's laughing again.

Even though Stan gets yelled at as soon as he steps foot in the house, all he can think about while he's laying in bed is how much fun he had and how much he loves Richie.

And also the fact that he was the worst fucking munchies.


End file.
